


Where's Morgana?

by Fallingtowardsoblivion, wawrthur



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Orgy, Other, crack!fic, everyone bangs it out at the tavern
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 03:51:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6640294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fallingtowardsoblivion/pseuds/Fallingtowardsoblivion, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wawrthur/pseuds/wawrthur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So we were playing Cards Against Humanity Merlin Edition and also bored and also wawrthur had no sleep and salt was dead inside (but only once because Salt is no Lancelot).</p><p>Also wawrthur had to deal but couldn’t and this is what happens when two of the most genius minds put their wobbly flesh organs together and go at it. Yas. Majestic. We are hilarious, our friends are so lucky to have us. (What friends?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where's Morgana?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DYlogger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DYlogger/gifts).



> a/n: we were writing this together at the same time, (hawt) everything just sort of FLOWED bc we are so GOOD and JENIUS. Yes that and so like. This is what a true collab is. Filthy, disgusting, raw and beautiful in its pure nakedness. Just. Going at it while the other is not looking. Then surprising them with some really fu--lly amazing stuff. Enjoy. (Enjoy, Amelia echos.) Have fun. COLLAB.
> 
> ALSO OUR HEARTS GO OUT TO DY WHO WAS HERE IN SPIRIT.

It was dark. Darker than in the arse of Merlin who was standing naked in the stocks.  (Not that Arthur had even ordered him to do so… recently, the manservant was just rather prone to the relaxing aura that being buck-naked in those chipped wooden confines gave him).

Lately, Uther had been much more lax on the use of magic due to his rekindled heart, warmed in the fire of a dragon… Specifically, his dragon, Killy, and his magical dragon willy. The willy that kindled heart and minds alike. And also, arses. Once you go Killy, you’re never free, really.

And so Uther was never free. Just like Merlin but in metaphorical shackles. Or were they? Or, well, he was the most free he had been in ages, incidentally. All the loud, braying throne sex was making burning sorcerers a bit of a hard job to do. Especially when the braying was done by no other than his son, Prince Arthur of Camelot. As soon as the boy hit the age, he has always being too excited about orgies.

Anyway, Merlin gave a bit of a chuckle, humming to himself as he wiggled around in the stocks, taking advantage of the nice wind tickling his gonads. It was really a glorious day to stand around in the stocks, if he did say so himself (and he did).

“MERLIN!” Oh bugger. Merlin was late for the prince’s most recent orgy in an unknown location, wasn’t he?

Just then a pair of golden-spandex-clad thighs (um, yummy, anyone?) came into Merlin’s view. Followed by a toned, naked chest and ah, yes, one Royal Pratface, Prattiest of Prats. You could even say...Pratlord. He was most definitely decked out for an orgy….

Yikes.

“MERlin… What in the hell…” Arthur trailed off as he looked around a bit, noticing how his manservant was… yes… ass-naked in the stocks. “Oh. Oh my…”

Merlin gave a bit of a guilty smile, vaguely wondering how he was supposed to explain his current nudity, stance, placement and half-hard dongler.

“Well, well, well little lady,” Arthur said in a Texan accent, eyeing Merlin up and down like he was the new sheriff in town.

Merlin blushed, biting the bottom of his lip in a way that made Arthur want to bite HIS bottom. “Arthur… I thought we were going to wait to play cowboys until next week…”

Arthur groaned, his dick BULGING and TINGLING. “We were… but Merlin, you’re all locked up in the stocks and ready to go…”

“HEY ARTHUR, MERLIN, WHERE THE HELL WERE YOU GUY?S!” A spontaneous, drop-dead drunk Gwaine yelled, slurring and sloshing his way over to the pair. “It's time for the orgy, mates…”

Arthur opened his mouth to respond, preferably scolding Gwaine for being drunk so early before the gangbangarang, but then Gwaine gave a graceful burp, flopping onto the ground, and promptly began to snore.

Arthur gave a forlorn sigh, his boner gone.

“Well, I guess it can wait. We have a orgy to get to after all…. BUT first I ought to prepare you.” Arthur winked, pulling out a tin of certain… things… (LUBE)

Just as Arthur was moving around to Merlin’s pert little bumly, Lance and Gwen walked up.

“Out again? And so early on!”

Gwaine heard Lance’s chuckle and instantly woke up. He was not even drunk anymore. All he wanted now was for Lance to rawr him and not die.

Arthur was busy smearing the herbs he had borrowed from Gaius on Merlin’s rumpus just as Merlin was about to tell Arthur that it was a BAD CHOICE because it was a pepper oil for injuries and now Merlin’s cheeks hurt like FIRE like he arse was on FIRE which it was actually ON because Gwaine has been smoking, standing nearby. And by smoking, the author means, “smoking HOT”. Don’t smoke, kids. Use protection. But really yeah he was actually SMOKING and Gauis just so happened to like adding an extra bit of spice in his salves (AKA FUCKING JETFUEL) and so of course, Merlin’s arse was actually on. Fire. JESUS.

So then Gwen screeched, “WHAT THE FUCK GWAINE” and Lancelot poured the water all over Merlin’s cheeks but like the wrong ones, so Merlin had water dripping down his face while his arse was burning. That was one sick sick burn.

Finally, Arthur slapped him on the arse and put down the fire. Then Merlin was magically healed for the purpose of the orgy which was about to take place. (And, in the process, Merlin also discovered that he was a rope bunny and liked the darker sides of BDSM, information which he filed away for a later date… preferably, when he would finally be invited to one of Killy and Uther’s sekrit, exclusive dungeon orgies.)

So then they headed to the Magical Unknown Place which was also locally known as The Tavern. THE. FUCKING. TAVERN.

Gwaine went first and immediately got into a huge debt just by stepping over the threshold. (coincidentally, he put said debt straight onto Arthur’s tab.)

Gwen was a close second but was vaguely cockblocked by Merlin who wanted both Gwaine and Arthur at the same time. Lance went in last and almost died because of his chivalry. (Fucking assholes, the whole lot of them.) (Literally.)

The tavern-owner looked up at them, then immediately sighed, reluctantly getting out the medieval cannister of flame-retardant, Gwaine’s regular 55 pound canister of lube, disinfectant spray and ear plugs. It was going to be a Biggun, he could tell. (Not that the last was wasn't similarly horrific and scarring for the tavern-owner. He still had nightmares, waking up weeping as his mind forever replayed a specific incident involving pony-play and a downright disuse and abuse of mead as lubrication.)

Anyway so then they all went into the room with TABLES because orgies are BEST when you have round TABLES. They sat around drinking mead for like 2 seconds but then Arthur stood up and whipped out his angry-red flesh sword and asked Merlin if he wanted to be slayed that night. Merlin’s arse then proceeded to go on fire for the second time that evening.

Then Gwen said that she should be slaying because she was like the only actually intelligent person in the whole city of Camelot and everyone immediately agreed. So Gwen whipped out her whip and told the boys to behave.

Merlin moaned.

Gwaine hurried to gulp down all the mead from everyone’s glasses before they would notice. It was running down his neck, dripping onto his chest and thighs as he spread them wider.

His bulge was very apparent. Very apparent. Verrrryyyy apparent. Oh ho ho, fucking popping right out of his pants is what it was. Oh yes, mead reallllly turned him on. Oh man.

Luckily, by the time Gwen noticed, all the mead was gone and all the mugs were empty. Gwaine looked like a cat who just got all the cream only he was a human who just literally drank all of his friends’ drinks and he had paid for NONE. What an arsehole. A happy arsehole, though, and that’s all that mattered.

“You are an arsehole,” said Lance, pursing his lips in a way that made him look like a cross between a porn star and constipated. “Now I need to teach you a lesson, babygurl.”

Gwaine smirked. “Does it involve apples?” Gwaine loved apples. Oh. Unf. Fucking apples. Oh man.

Gwen cracked the whip and they both fell silent.

Merlin was vaguely coming in the background with Arthur grunting over him.

“Aw Arthur, you are so cute!” hissed Gwen.

“GwEn..sHUt..Up..I”M..TRYING tO ...cOME!” misspelled Arthur.

Lance laughed at their feelings because he was actually dead inside. Twice.

“What are you laughing at, Du Lac (more like Du Fuk me, amiright?)?” Gwen murmured. “Come here so I can show you something you have never seen in your journeys.”

“You mean my sick new mixtape?” Gwaine piped up from under a table. He was pretty smashed. Well, pretty (insert hair flip) and smashed under a table. Merlin noticed, and used a little bit o magic to get the table off of Gwaine. How he had become smashed under a table, no one would ever know. No one really cared, either. After all, he did drink everyone’s PAID DRINK AND GWEN IS A FUCKN PEASANT AND MERLIN DOESN’T EVEN EARN MONEY GWAINE WTF CHECK YOUR PRIVILEGE.

Arthur was too busy being INSANELY TURNED ON by MERLIN'S MAGIC. They promptly began to fuck it out all over again. Yummy.

“Yummy Yummy,” said Gwaine, eating an apple that he had produced from...Oh. Oh no.

NEVER MIND, Lance was trying to convince himself, NEVER YOU MIND. YOU ARE A CINNAMON ROLL LANCE, TOO INNOCENT FOR THIS WORLD, TOO PURE.

Ulike Merlin, who always voiced what everyone was thinking. Fucker.

“Gwaine… did you just shit out an apple?” MErlin grunted, doing a strange pretzel-thing with his thighs, suspended mid-air by his tentacles of magic as he fucked Arthur with them.

Gwaine grinned a shit-eating grin. Possibly it was quite literal a shit-eating grin. Gwaine, after all, was into scat porn. The stable boys loved him.

Meanwhile, Gwen was trying not to think about Gwaine and his table manners (more like stable manners, eh?). She was too busy manhandling Lance into kneeling on the floor. She took her dd/lg tumblr blogs to a whole new level.

“Call me mummy,” she screeched as Oedipus and Freud banged it out in the afterlife but also beforelife for Freud because he hadn’t even been born yet. Which really was a minor technicality when you had a warlock banging it out on the ceiling. With tentacles.

“WE ARE NOT IN EGYPT,” whispered Lance in a muppet voice and then he realised that Gwen was touching the stray bits of gauze stuck in her hair.

“Are you dead, Gwen?” Lance hiccuped.

“No, you are!” Gwen laughed.

“I am,” Lance smiled at her. It was a fake smile, of course. He was dead, indeed. Mostly inside. Mostly twice. He couldn’t feel a thing. He did not know empathy. He wanted to bang a suit of armour because only that gave him a sense of belonging.

“Bow down to me and also grab that dildo,” Gwen stared. She was beautiful like an angel. She was wearing a dark velvety corset the colour of ravens when they sing about death and blood and her hair lay in perfect curls and fell down her luxurious breasts. She had kind but strong eyes the colour of melting chocolate on the winter nights. In your cup. There are eyes in your cup. Don’t scream. He’s still in your house.

She also was very slim but curvy, the best figure that everyone in Camelot, men and women and non-binary folks alike, envied. Everyone fell in love with Gwen as soon as she entered the room. But her heart only belonged to one.

It was the most chivalrous, kind, gentle, majestic and big-hearted person in the world. Most precious. Her name...Morgana.

Lance was captivated by her image, even if she was wearing minion pasties. She was wearing those plastered all over her corset. AND HER COOCH. He would bang those minion pasties if it meant he could bang her. God damn. Oh wait, she was going to bang him. Oh man, this was like christmas. Better than christmas. It was like second christmas. Oh man.

Lance reached for the dildo, eager to please his mistress. Only, where the dildo had been there was now a pile of apple cores arranged into an IOU.

“Gwaine!”

“I’VE GOT THE DINGALING!” Gwaine shouted, running from behind the bar, where he had been making himself into a filthy mead-monster by dousing himself in tankard after tankard of mead.

Lance frowned, looking at the sopping wet, naked specimen of a man in front of him. “Where is it? I don’t see - oh. Oh. Give that back!”

The Dingaling was dingalinging between Gwaine’s legs. That was the harsh truth. Gwaine was a walking dildo. What a dickhead. Literally.

“Gwaine,” threatened Gwen, “I want you to frick-frack Du Fak.”

“Quack,” said Gwaine in a monotone voice.

“Qua..” Lance let out a weak whimper.

Gwen cracked her whip and Gwaine flipped Lance onto the table. Merlin and Arthur had successfully fucked on the ceiling and were now eyeing the window. But Merlin wasn’t finished YET. To come, he needed everyone in the room to say “Emrys Sinmrys” three times fast while looking into the mirror.

Just then, Merlin came again, releasing a sex pollen into the air. Oh man, was that a game changer. Everything was suddenly HOT and HEAVY (like Gwaine’s dick).

Everyone got into positions and started going at it like rabbits whilst simultaneously sneezing. Orgasm level reached 9000.

Everyone kept coming and coming and coming and then going and there was literally a crowd of onlookers at some point just staring at them going at it. Look at them go, they were saying. It’s like 3 am right now and time hasn’t even been invented yet but we don’t care, this braying attracted us out of our beds.

(Spoilers: the braying was Arthur).

At the end of it all, everyone cleaned up a bit and straightened out their outfits, leaving on wobbly legs. The tavern-owner had to clean up. Alone after the party when he realised everyone has been there for fun only and not for him. He had no friends. They were all fake. Fake friends. No more fucking free mead for Gwaine. Fuck that guy.

  
  
                                                                                                                     The End

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: fallingtowardsoblivion is sorry to the 36 people who for some reason subscribed to me. I hope the fruits of (Gwaine’s butt) pressing that button are plentiful as you read this.
> 
> a/n: wawrthur strongly advises you to keep away from cute people as they will destroy your soul and sanity and also banish you to hell bc you will end up writing something along these lines  
> Also to all, this is not a sequel to the mystery boy, i’m sorry if this showed up in your subscriptions and you were excited. I’m ..just sorry. (As you should be.)


End file.
